Let The Memory Live Again
by Purple Rhapsody
Summary: “It shocked them all that it was Spot Conlon who was in the sick ward. Spot, strong leader to all, was terminally ill.” [Oneshot.]


**This is my entry for stress's word challenge, "memory". It had to be 1,000 words or less, and according to my Word document, this is 1,000 on the dot. **

**Oh, and the title is from the Cats song.**

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"How's he doing, nurse?" Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly asked as a young woman entered. He no longer went by Cowboy now; the 1960's was no place for such an antiquated name. Jack glanced around the hospital room, noticing how most of the old gang was there. Nearly all of the former Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies that could be contacted had come. It shocked them all that it was Spot Conlon who was in the sick ward. Spot, strong leader to all, was terminally ill. Yet Jack wanted to make sure.

"As a working member of this hospital, I am not allowed to give away classified information," insisted the nurse. "I have already informed your friends of this."

"Oh…Janette," Jack stated, reading the blurry nametag, "Give an old coot some hope in a time like this," he wheedled, clasping her hands into his. Although Jack was older, he most certainly had not lost the charm that had made him Manhattan leader extraordinaire once upon a time. Janette dropped hold of his icy digits.

"Family members only!" she insisted. All the boys sighed in frustration.

"Please…we're his brothers!" Jack protested. Boots stood up.

"Yeah! Can't you see the resemblance we share?" he asked. She rolled her eyes. She knew that not one of these boys actually shared blood with the patient, yet somehow she also knew that it would be unjust by not letting them in on the news. After all, family was family, no matter the appearance. She sighed, annoyed to be confronted with another dilemma that day. But she gave in.

"As you know, he's suffered very desperately from severe long-term memory loss; his short-term memory is now slowly fading as well. He lapses into periods of consciousness and unconsciousness; the exact illness is unknown. He doesn't have that much time left," she admitted honestly. The room was silent as they watched the sleeping figure of the Brooklyn native, reassuring themselves that his chest was rising and falling regularly. The nurse disappeared after a few moments. There was nothing left she could do; and besides, she had other patients to attend to.

"Jack?" Mush asked tentatively. "What if he'll—"

"He won't," Jack answered firmly, not letting Mush express the thoughts that were on every single boy's mind.

"Hey, where's Hannah?" Blink asked suddenly, referring to Spot's wife.

"She died years ago, you moron, that's why Spot never had kids," Racetrack answered. Blink was a tad out of the loop; this was the first time that he had seen his friends in over two decades. Of course this brought on talk amongst themselves about their own wife and kids, none of who had accompanied them on this visit. They needed to come by themselves to support someone that they all knew and loved.

Everyone was silenced, however, by a small moan from the bed. They jumped in anticipation at the prospect of Spot waking up. Sure enough, his beautiful blue eyes fluttered open.

"Spot!" The word was chorused throughout the room, their voices echoing off the wall and softly bouncing into the ears of the former leader. Instead of the smirk that they had become accustomed to, the expression on Spot's face was clearly fear.

"Who are you? Why are you all here?" he asked, terrified for his own safety. Each boy's heart broke to see him behave in this manner; they never for a moment would have guessed that Spot Conlon would exhibit fear. It was Jack who spoke.

"Heya, Spotty!" he said, "It's Cowboy, remember me?" The trepidation never leaving his face, Spot slowly shook his head.

"No, I don't," he whispered softly. Jack would have given anything to have him remember again.

"This is Racetrack, David, Mush, Skittery, Blink, Bumlets, Crutchy…all of your friends!" But all they got from Spot was a shake of his pale head.

"Remember the strike? How so long ago, we triumphed over Pulitzer and showed the world what we could do? Remember Brooklyn, and slingshots, and your cane…remember Medda's, and Tibby's, and Manhattan?" Jack tried desperately, hoping that something would trigger his memory. It didn't.

"Well, Racetrack made you a card…" he said, pointing at the Italian and handing Spot a neatly folded piece of paper. "We all signed it."

"Swifty…Snipeshooter…Snoddy?" he read, almost as a question.

"Yeah," Jack uttered quietly, giving up all hope. Of course, the doctor who he had spoken to days ago told him that there was no hope; that he would never remember. But Jack had refused to believe it. It was all sinking in now.

Spot's involuntary coughing broke the silence. Cough, cough, cough…what seemed like seconds turned into a minute, until it dawned on all of them that this could be serious. David, who was closest to the door, ran out in search of the nurse.

"You were the real King of New York," Jack mumbled so inaudibly that Mush, who was standing right next to him, couldn't hear him.

But as Spot was looking up into Jack's eyes from where he was perched on the bed, his face suddenly appeared to be aglow. He stopped cowering; something seemed to change. It was like a light was turned on somewhere, rescuing them all from the murky darkness.

"Jack?" he whispered sitting up, almost as a new person. Jack sighed in relief. He remembered! All of the boys started cheering quietly so not to give him any kind of headache.

But as David came back with the summoned nurse, that was not the scene that greeted them. Instead, many tissues were being pulled out as some were openly crying. For as soon as Spot's spell of remembrance occurred, it had been his time to leave.

All Spot remembered at the very end was looking at each and every one of his friends' faces and thinking how lucky he was to have such a support group. These were the people who truly loved him.

And you know what? That just might have been enough for all of them.

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**Thanks for reading! If you have time, I would appreciate it if you would tell me what you think.**


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